


Talk Dirty To Me

by SilverFlameAlchemist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Sucks at Laundry, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Nothing good happens after 2am, Phone Sex, Sam Ships It, Sexting, Texting, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFlameAlchemist/pseuds/SilverFlameAlchemist
Summary: 2AM in the bunker usually meant great things. It meant silence and dreamless sleep, or raids on the kitchen to stop an aching belly. Sometimes it even meant a quickie in the hall, or cuddling in a bed big enough for two.





	

2AM in the bunker usually meant great things.

It meant silence and dreamless sleep, or raids on the kitchen to stop an aching belly.

Sometimes it even meant a quickie in the hall, or even just ( _mostly_ ) innocent cuddling in a bed big enough for two.

And if Dean was very, _very_ lucky, it meant pie straight from the container, quiet laughter, and kisses stolen from the cherry-laced lips of an angel. _Literally_.

But Dean wasn't lucky tonight.

Tonight he was staring up at his ceiling as sleep refused to come, the silence pressing in on his eardrums, his limbs like lead as his mind whirred and buzzed out of control, going over the minutia of their last hunt, looking for flaws in their technique, or what they could improve to work better as a three-person team.

Cass's inclusion was now mandatory; as both bad-ass angel and sweet-ass boyfriend, Dean would have been an idiot to leave him behind on a hunt.

Besides, he was not, as Bobby would have put it, a "ditchable prom date".

Dean let out a long sigh and scrabbled for his cellphone, barely even looking at the screen as he typed up the quick message, consumed by thoughts of dark hair and blue eyes and determined to do something about it.

" _Talk dirty to me."_

He hit send before he could think better of it, imagining Cass getting the message as he sat in a corner of the darkened library, fumbling with his phone as it made noise, letting out a sigh at the request from the hunter.

" _I'm not wearing any underwear."_

Dean's eyebrows kissed his hairline as he read the reply, nearly dropping his phone against his face as he started to type out a reply. Before he could, however, another message popped up under the first.

" _Because you never put the fucking laundry in the fucking dryer like I asked you to 100 fucking times."_

Dean's eyebrows knitted together as he stared at the message, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He looked up at the top of the screen, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the name of the contact he had texted.

" _Oh my God, Sammy, I'm so sorry."_

He rolled over and groaned into his pillow, heat climbing the back of his neck as he remembered the last time he had done something like this. He'd been completely shit-faced on that occasion, confusing his Sammy with a _Sammie_ he'd met at a bar. At the time, Sam had led him along for about twenty minutes before shutting him down with a "dude this is your brother", and Dean had sworn to never drink and text again.

Which made it worse, because now he wasn't drunk.

" _About what? The laundry? Cause you fucking should be."_ Dean rolled his eyes. " _Dude, it's fine about the text. Just get the right person next time. Jeez. And get some damn sleep."_

Dean let out a long sigh, hiding his face in his pillow again as he sent a " _Goodnight, Sammy_ ", and tried to pretend he wasn't going to have to make up for this whole fiasco somehow.

He didn't get to wallow long, however, because his phone started to ring.

"I swear to God, Sam, I thought I was texting Cass."

" _Well you are talking to me, now."_ The familiar, rough voice spoke into his ear, a chuckle laced into the words. " _Did you do something inappropriate again?"_

"Why is that your first assumption?" Dean muttered, rolling onto his back, rubbing at his eyes.

" _Because it's 2 am and I'm not there with you. It seems likely you attempted to try something romantic and likely erotic, and you selected the wrong contact."_ He paused, and Dean could practically _hear_ him tilt his head. " _You didn't send your brother a picture of your—"_

"Whoa! No!" Dean cut him off, quickly lowering his voice again. " _God_ , Cass, of course not… I… I was trying to text you and ask you to talk dirty to me, and I sent it to Sam instead."

" _So I was right."_

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, you were right."

" _Of course I was—You should really put those fingers of yours to better use than sending inappropriate text messages to the wrong people. Idle hands do the devil's work, and you know how I feel about him."_

A small shudder ran down Dean's spine, and his lips quirked up at the corners.

"Any suggestions for what I do with my hands, then?"

" _A few dozen. Where are you?"_

"In bed. Where are you?"

The bed shifted under him as Cass appeared in a soft flutter of wings, straddling his lap, a smile on his lips as he spoke into the phone. "In bed. How convenient."

"Have I told you lately how much I love that you can do that?" Dean chuckled, returning his phone to the nightstand.

"Not lately." Cass admitted, sliding his coat off, his smile shy and hopeful, the kind he always wore before he gave Dean the best orgasm of his life.

"Well, I love that you can do that." Dean reiterated, watching Cass slowly strip, the movements smooth and hypnotic, practiced a thousand times and yet always surprising and new.

Cass leaned forward, putting his weight on one hand as he pressed a slow kiss to Dean's neck, his other hand making quick work of his belt, Dean jumping in to help free him of his pants, a grin sliding onto his face as he felt the familiar scratch of stubble along his jaw, hungry lips looking for the next place to land.

Cass's lips found his, warm and wanting, and a sound escaped him before he could stop it, hands skimming back up Cass's back before they lost themselves in his hair, the angel crumbling under the ministrations.

Dean let a tiny, quiet prayer slip between them, the same one he repeated every day, more times than he could count.

 _I love you_.

* * *

" _Dude, do you have laundry to do?"_

" _Are you ACTUALLY going to do the laundry? Or just say you are and leave them to mold in the washer again?"_

" _Yeah, I need to wash my sheets. And I'll remember to change the laundry this time. Promise."_

" _Un-huh. Sure."_

" _Sex on a sheet-less bed is not all it's cracked up to be."_

" _DUDE."_

" _YOU ASKED."_

" _I DO NOT WANT TO WASH MY UNDERWEAR WITH YOUR SEX SHEETS."_

" _Then it ain't gettin' washed."_

" _Screw you, Dean."_

" _Cass already did."_

" _DAMMIT."_

A hand curled against his abdomen as he put the phone away, the dark-haired angel beside him blinking his eyes open, eyebrows knitting together at the grin he found plastered on the hunter's face.

"What did you do?"

"I was sending an inappropriate text message to my brother."

"I warned you about that."

"I know. But I couldn't help it." He winked at his angel, stealing a quick kiss. "You weren't here to keep my hands busy."

**Author's Note:**

> Supernatural and all related characters belong to: Eric Kripke


End file.
